


Regret

by WitticasterCole



Series: Strays [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16069814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitticasterCole/pseuds/WitticasterCole
Summary: Aloth gets caught up in a quest to save the world.With the guy who punched his v-card fifteen years ago.





	Regret

**Author's Note:**

> YEAH HI WE'RE BACK WITH THIS NONSENSE
> 
> If you haven't read [Fleet Week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15621843), you should probably do that before you read this.
> 
> Thanks again to [peardita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peardita/) for betaing this, again despite not having played the games.

When Aloth had taken the assignment in Gilded Vale—not quite the middle of nowhere, but one could certainly see it from there—he'd gone in with a number of expectations. Least among them had been that the man who deflowered him fifteen years ago would make a sudden reappearance in the midst of a dispute with the locals and immediately collapse, unconscious, to the ground.

In retrospect, however, this was exactly the kind of thing the gods enjoyed throwing at him.

Aloth stood there, dumbfounded, for perhaps a few seconds too long. Then he dropped to his knees and checked for a pulse—which was present, if sluggish. “Finn?” he whispered frantically, accompanied by a few light slaps to the man's face.

Nothing. Finn was out cold.

Aloth looked up at the front door of the inn and sighed. He'd planned to depart tonight, to accept that his contact was never coming back and finally leave the dismal, mundane horror of Gilded Vale behind. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at the tree in the town square, and the bodies that hung from it.

Finn had saved his life. Aloth couldn't, in good conscience, leave him to the mercy of Lord Raedric and his thugs.

Getting Finn up off the ground took some doing; Aloth was hardly a weakling, but Finn was just as tall as he remembered and broader by half. Wrestling the door open with his hands full of unconscious human was yet another obstacle, and Pasca the innkeeper gave him an odd look as he passed.

The stairs to the second floor were across the common area, but the sight of an unconscious man being dragged to his room was familiar enough that most of the inn's other guests ignored him. The stairs themselves were the most exhausting part, and Aloth was panting with exertion by the time he dumped Finn onto one of the two beds that sat on opposite sides of his room.

The second bed had, up until now, gone unused; Aloth had requested a private room.

Aloth took a moment to sit at the foot of the bed and catch his breath. It was odd, reconciling the Finn he remembered with the man lying before him now.

“Fye,” Iselmyr piped up with an appreciative whistle. “Still canny believe ye shagged this one, lad.”

“Shut up,” Aloth hissed.

Finn was sharper around the edges, the intervening years having worn away the softness of youth. Gone were the light, revealing clothes he'd worn as a sailor; now, he was encased from toe to collar in worn leathers, spattered with blood—most of which didn't appear to be his. He was also surprisingly well-armed, with a mace and axe dangling from his belt, a greatsword strapped to his back, and an indeterminate number of knives stowed on his person. In unconsciousness, he looked peaceful enough, but Aloth remembered too well the exhaustion shadowing his face and the glazed, fevered look in his eyes.

There was no sign that Finn would awaken any time soon, and it was near sunset anyway. With a sigh, Aloth set about removing Finn's boots and as much armor as he could, attempting to make him more comfortable on the bed. Once that was done, he rolled Finn onto his side, in the event that whatever illness had felled him also induced nausea.

Aloth dithered for a few minutes before his hunger got the best of him and he hurried downstairs to retrieve some food. He returned as quickly as possible, leaving a hunk of bread on the side table next to Finn. Then he sat on his own bed, eating in silence.

Calling for a healer wasn't really an option—all of Gilded Vale's apothecaries, physicians, and hedge witches were either exiled or hanging from the tree in the town square. All he could really do was monitor Finn's condition, and wait.

Aloth settled in for a long night.

•

A scream startled Aloth out of his light, fitful sleep.

He floundered in confusion for a moment, with no idea where he was or what was happening. A loud _thump_ from the other side of the room drew his attention; Finn had fallen to the floor and was now doubled over on his hands and knees, panting and shaking.

The bedframe squeaked alarmingly as Aloth sat up and leaned over the edge. “Finn?”

Finn's head snapped up, but not in response to Aloth's voice. He stared into nothing for a long moment before lurching to his feet and stumbling for the door.

Aloth swore and leapt out of bed, but reason stalled him long enough to find his boots and cloak. By the time he'd donned both and bolted down the stairs, Finn was gone—but the inn's front door was hanging open.

A storm had come in the night, and as Aloth stepped outside he was instantly soaked to the bone. Dawn was still hours away, and in the darkness Finn was nowhere to be seen. An attenuated casting of Arkemyr’s Dazzling Lights gave Aloth just enough light to spot bare footsteps, which led back toward the center of town.

To the tree.

Aloth shuddered, and didn't even try to blame it on the rain.

He found Finn standing at the base of the tree, staring up at one of the many bodies that hung from its boughs. The body was that of a dwarf woman; an animancer who had come to help the Raedrics bear a healthy child and been executed when she failed.

Finn stood stock still, head tilted back as if to meet the corpse's eyes, apparently unaffected by the rain or the cold.

Aloth stepped up behind Finn and carefully placed a hand on his arm. Finn didn't react. Aloth moved around to his front, calling one of the lights over to illuminate his face; Finn's eyes were wide, gazing into nothing, his mouth slightly agape. His lips moved slightly, as if whispering to himself.

Movement caught Aloth's eye; one of the locals had noticed the disturbance and begun to move in their direction. Aloth swore quietly; the last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.

He reached up, grabbed Finn by the shoulders, and gave him a quick shake. “Finn!” he hissed.

After a moment, Finn stirred, blinking rapidly. “I'm a Watcher,” he murmured.

Aloth froze. “... What?”

And then Finn collapsed again.

Aloth yelped, struggling to keep Finn upright, but the weight nearly bore them both to the ground. Another pair of arms looped around Finn's chest, pulling him upright.

“Easy there,” groaned the man who had spotted them, grabbing one of Finn's arms and looping it around his own broad shoulders. He squinted at Finn for a moment, then turned his attention to Aloth. “He all right?”

“I have no idea,” Aloth confessed.

Finn shook his head, as if to clear it, and rapidly scanned the area. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and his gaze finally settled on Aloth's face.

“Aloth?”

“Finn,” Aloth replied stiffly.

“You're real,” Finn said, as if that were a subject under debate.

“I'm Edér,” said the stranger, oddly affable considering the circumstances. “In case you were wondering.”

Finn shivered and finally looked down at his own attire. “... Where are my shoes?”

Aloth sighed and pushed his soaked hair out of his face. “Perhaps we could continue this conversation indoors?”

•

“Wait, wait, wait,” Edér interrupted. “You're telling me you survived a bîaŵac?”

“Seems like,” Finn muttered into his drink.

The three of them had found a table in a secluded corner of the Black Hound's common room. Not that it mattered; the only other patrons at this time of night were in no condition to eavesdrop on them.

Edér lounged easily in his chair, although he made sure to sit with his back to the wall and kept glancing toward the door. Finn was either less concerned with his own safety or too exhausted to care; almost his entire upper body lay sprawled across the table, as if it were the only thing holding him up. He'd untied his soaked hair and made a cursory attempt to untangle it before abandoning the task.

Aloth had foregone the inn's frankly terrible ale in favor of something resembling breakfast—mostly cold bacon and a few stale hunks of bread, which now sat untouched. He sat awkwardly in his chair, hands in his lap, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. He itched to reach over and comb his fingers through Finn's hair, brush it away from his face and—

Ridiculous. He barely knew the man.

“What happened?” he asked.

Finn shrugged. “Found some spooky bastards with hoods playing around with an Engwithan artifact. That brought down the bîaŵac. Maybe. It knocked me out, and when I woke up, I could talk to dead people.”

Aloth's hands froze, and he looked up sharply. “Spooky—?” He cleared his throat. “What did they look like?”

Finn sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Cloaks. Masks. Couldn't see their faces. There was one…” He paused, hands dropping to the table. That faraway look in his eyes returned for a moment, then he shook himself. “I don't know.”

Aloth carefully schooled his expression. Finn had met the Leaden Key. He must have. But if they were so close, why had Aloth been alone for months? Did they know he was still here?

Did they put him here, knowing Finn would eventually pass through? If so, why?

“You'll want to be careful about who you tell that story to,” Edér warned. “Raedric's men are gonna be on the prowl for troublemakers. Especially now that his kid came out Hollowborn.”

“I keep hearing that word,” Finn grumbled. “What does it mean?”

Aloth and Edér shared a glance.

“You really are new around here,” Edér said.

“It’s an… epidemic, of sorts,” Aloth explained. “Children born without souls.”

“A _lot_ of children,” Edér added. “Nobody knows why. Raedric’s convinced it’s divine punishment for blasphemy or something.”

An old doubt resurfaced at the back of Aloth’s mind. The Leaden Key had asked him to keep an eye on Raedric, but expressed no interest in the epidemic that had prompted his fanaticism. Why?

Aloth squashed that thought and leveled a wary look in Edér’s direction. “And what about you?”

Edér responded with a wry smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m the biggest blasphemer around here. The only thing Raedric’s lackeys hate more than troublemakers is Eothasians.”

Finn shook his head. “If it's as dangerous as you say, I can't stay here.” He looked up at Edér. “You shouldn't either.”

Edér seemed to contemplate this. “Where you headed?”

“Caldara—the dead woman on the tree—she said I should look for someone named Maerwald, in some castle called Caed Nua.” Finn paused for a moment, as if he didn't quite believe the words coming out of his own mouth, then continued, “He's a Watcher. Another one.”

“Huh.” Edér puffed on his pipe for a moment. “Seems like someone I'd like to talk to.”

Finn was leaving. Finn was leaving, and he'd crossed paths with the Leaden Key. They didn't like loose ends; they were bound to come looking for him.

“I have to admit I've grown rather tired of this place,” Aloth said, as casually as he could. “Would you care for some more company on the road?”

Finn glanced sidelong at Aloth, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like fun.”

Aloth felt his face heat and ducked his head, staring down at his hands.

“Well then,” Edér said, pushing his chair back and standing. “We should leave in the morning, first thing. So go get some sleep.”

And with that, Edér walked out the door.

Finn let out a sigh, collapsing even further onto the table, and turned his full attention on Aloth. “So,” he said, drawing out the word. “How'd _you_ wind up in Gilded Vale?”

Aloth ducked his head again, fingers tangling together. “Same as you, I imagine. It seemed like a chance for a fresh start.”

“I would've thought you'd be serving in some noble's court by now.”

Aloth shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “All the offers I had were... too close to home.”

A small black hound—the inn's namesake—wandered over and lay down near the fire. Aloth had stayed here long enough to hear the story of its abandonment several times over; true to form, the hound turned to face the front door, laid its head on its paws, and whined softly.

“Doesn't seem like you're getting along with your new neighbors,” Finn said idly, stealing a piece of bacon off Aloth's plate. He leaned back in his chair, holding the meat out to the dog.

“... Ah. You remember that.”

“I remember you telling a man to go fuck his sister, yes.”

The dog shuffled over to take the piece of bacon from Finn's fingers; Finn immediately stole another piece to entice the dog closer.

“That was—” Iselmyr's fault. “—a misunderstanding.”

“Right,” Finn said, unconvinced. He managed to coax the dog to sit next to his chair, and continued to feed it pieces of Aloth's abandoned breakfast.

“You seem... better,” Aloth pointed out, desperate for a change of subject. “Than you were earlier, I mean.”

“Sleep helped,” Finn replied. “I was walking for... a while, after the bîaŵac. It's all still there, though, the…” he gestured vaguely around his own head, then gave up and scratched the dog behind the ears instead. “I don't suppose that academy of yours taught you anything about Watchers.”

“Nothing more than hearsay and legends.” Part of a half-forgotten lecture drifted through Aloth's memory, and he suppressed a sudden burst of excitement. “They're said to have insight into certain soul conditions.”

Soul conditions such as one's uncouth and unnecessarily confrontational past life intruding into the present.

“Better than nothing,” Finn sighed. He smiled at Aloth. “Thank you. For everything. It can't have been easy, dealing with me in that state.”

“I—you're welcome.” Aloth cleared his throat. “I should get to bed.”

Finn nodded, tousling the dog's ears thoughtfully. “There's something I want to do, before we leave.”

“Oh?”

“There was a woman traveling with me. Calisca. She didn't make it. Her sister lives around here, and…”

Aloth resisted the impulse to speculate as to Finn's precise relationship with this woman. “You’d like to... visit?”

“I just want her to know what happened,” Finn confessed. “I owe them both that much.”

“Ah.” Aloth glanced down at the hound, which had rested its head on Finn's thigh. “So you're not just stalling so you can spend more time with the dog.”

Finn heaved himself up out of the chair; the dog stood as well, looking up at him with devotion.

“Nope,” he said. “We're taking the dog.”

**Author's Note:**

> normally i don't do phonetic accents but this gave me a chance to write scottish twitter dialogue


End file.
